


Family Is Everything

by potionsmaster



Series: How I Met Your Father [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: A Peek Into The Past, Domestic Fluff, Extended Families, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family History, Family Secrets, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Irony, M/M, Post-War, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, actually nice mother-in-law, life on the orchard, story telling, strange family tree, the whole situation is just...strange, unusual parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsmaster/pseuds/potionsmaster
Summary: Cassie Shepard would say she had a rather unusual upbringing, what with her parents being who they are and all.  But she never knew how they managed to meet and wind up the way they did.  Turns out, going direct to the source has its benefits
Relationships: Female Shepard/Male Shepard (Mass Effect), Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard, Kaidan Alenko/Male Shepard
Series: How I Met Your Father [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921438
Comments: 19
Kudos: 14





	1. Smoking Might Be Bad For Health, But Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Author's Note:**

> I love twisting the circumstances of the game for my own brain droppings to fit. And really odd family situations. Hope you all enjoy it!

**_Family Is Everything,_ ** by potionsmaster

Rating: M for swearing, sexual situations, dick jokes. My usual, in short

**Chapter 1:** _Smoking Might Be Bad For Health, But Curiosity Killed the Cat_

* * *

  
  
  


The air is chill and crisp, early morning pale and golden as I burrow in the thick jacket I had stolen from the coat rack next to the back door in my grandmother's farmhouse. The horses’ nickers filter across the yard, excited for their morning feeding. A dull thud bangs on one of the red barn’s walls, Dad’s brusque voice deep and commanding in response. I think it’s the black one, Wraith. Grandma is always talking about how he’s a handful and how Dad and Papa both have a magic touch with him. 

I see her slender form making her way back to the farmhouse, probably to get breakfast started before we have to start preparations for the joint birthday party. That means I have a little bit of time. I sneak around to the front of the house, where I know they won’t find me, and sit on the porch swing, slipping a cigarette out of my hidden pack and lighting it up, taking a drag. It’s lucky this year that spring break coincides with Papa’s and my birthdays. Still feels a little strange to say that and believe it all. I look out over the pasture, sunlight dusting the grass with fairy dust and making the remaining dew sparkle.

“Smokin’s bad for you, y’know.”

I jump a mile and immediately try to hide it next to my thigh, turning to face Dad with wide eyes. He’s smirking at me, clear blue eyes crinkled in the corners of his increasingly weathered face and slides next to me on the swing. The weight of him throws the motion of it off.

“Give it.”

He gestures with a couple of fingers, holding his hand out expectantly, voice the same commanding tone he had with the horse and brooking no argument. I sigh in defeat and pass it to him, chin tucked as I watch him accept it and take a deep drag. After a moment, smoke drifts out his nostrils, blue eyes glancing slyly at me out of the corners as he passes it back to me. I stare at him a moment before I hastily take it back.

“....Dad?”

“Don’t let your father catch you. He already gets pissy enough with me about it, heh. I quit about five years ago, remember?” He holds out his hand again and I pass it back to him in shock. Unreal. 

“Yeah, but… weird.”

“So’s your face.”

I give him a long-suffering look and take the cigarette back. He chuckles and settles back on the swing, propping one large boot on the railing in front of us. “Grandma will kill you if she catches you doing that.” He laughs again.

“She can try; I know for a fact Albert did the same damn thing, and so does your father. There’s a groove in the wood that’s just perfect for it.”

“Probably from them doing it over the years,” I suppose out loud, taking another hit. I offer it back to him and he declines, rocking us back and forth with his elbow draped over the back of the swing.

“I would say. You’re a smart kid; I wouldn’t have thought about that.”

I scoff. “Whatever you say, Dad.”

“What? It’s true.” He gently tugs my earlobe and I duck out from under it, cheeks growing hot from exasperation as much as affection. “What’s got you outta bed so early? I would’ve thought we’d have to pry you out with a crowbar around noon.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I bump my shoulder into him and he drops his arm comfortably around me, drawing me close. I lean against him, cuddling to get warm and tucking my legs beneath me. “Was thinking about Mom.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah…”

“What about?”

“Just… stuff. I mean, she knew Grandma, right?” Dad nods. “Then… I guess…” I take another drag which brings it down to the filter and I stub it out. He holds his hand out again and I put the butt in his palm. Sighing, he tucks it in his pocket and shoves the railing with his foot, setting the swing in motion again. “She never _talked_ about her. Or Papa. Or… _this._ Why not?”

The silence is rent by birds chirping. I rest my head against Dad’s chest, hearing his heart beat, steady and strong. “Well, that’s a… rather complicated answer. One I’m not entirely sure I can get right, even knowin’ your mom as long as I did.” I glance up at him.

“She never told me how you guys met, either.”

That garners another chuckle out of him. “Not surprisin’. Not exactly for mixed company. She literally fell in my lap in a club."

“Uuuugh, _Dad.”_ I smack his chest in disgust. “Why do you have to be so _gross?”_

“Ow- _hey!_ Not like that. Naw, just the circumstances weren’t the most kid-friendly is all. We didn’t do it until well after we were married.”

I slap his chest again. “Again. Gross.”

“Fact o’ life, Cassie. And if you can’t accept that, you’re not old enough to be smokin’.” He catches my eye and furrows his brows sternly. I fight the urge to stick my tongue out at him. 

“I’m an adult. I can handle it.” I hug him, trying to hide the shivers that are threatening even despite the thick jacket. His body heat helps more than I want to admit. 

“Seventeen is not an adult by legal standards here.”

“Well, then, close enough. Still really weird how you and Papa got together, too.”

“How d’you mean?” Dad chaffs my arm and the extra heat is pleasant.

“Well, it… it’s… just… _weird,_ I dunno! Kinda came out of nowhere, and with Mom being gone, then finding Papa, and _you_ and Papa, and…”

“I mean, I _guess_ it’s a little ironic, if you think about it, heh.”

“I _have_ , and it mystifies the crap out of me. I think I know even less about how you guys ended up together than how you and Mom did.”

“Well, what do you think you know? I can fill in the blanks.”

I look up at him again. “For real?” He nods. “You’ll actually _tell_ me how you guys met, instead of just saying 'on the _Normandy'._ ” 

“I mean...we _did_ meet on the _Normandy,"_ he chuckled.

"Dad…" I sighed.

"You’re right. Maybe when you’re older.” He sets the swing in motion again and I roll my eyes in exasperation.

“You’re fucking impossible.”

“Don’t fuckin’ swear.” He gently pinches at my ribs and I squirm against him, trying to escape. 

“Hypocrite.” I pinch his middle just as much and he clamps his arm tight, pinning me against him as he gives me a noogie.

“Goddamn sailor; I’m supposed to.”

“ _Space_ sailor.”

“Aaa-yuh. And you’re still not goddamn old enough.”

_“Yes,_ I _am!”_ I protest, pinching his stomach and ribs again. He twitches under it but I have him trapped and he knows it.

“Uh huh. That remains to be seen, Monkey. Tell you what, pass my test and I’ll tell all. Deal?”

There’s no question; I’ll finally get some answers. “Uh, let me think. Deal.”

“Mmkay.” He looks me straight in the eye, dead serious. “Penis.”

I shriek and clutch at my ears, making a show of it. “DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.” 

“Yeahhhh, that’s what I thought. Too young. Also, no more smokin’. Too young for that, too.”

“You’re such a goddamn dick.”

“And stop fuckin’ swearing.”

“Daaaaaaad…”

“Hey, keep it up and I’ll have Mina change the wifi password again.”

I hunker down under his arm in a huff. “No fair.”

“Yeah, well.” He keeps the swing rocking, birds filling the comfortable silence between us again. “Life ain’t fair, wear a helmet.”

“Tell me?”

“Honey, if you’re not able to hear proper anatomy terms with a straight face, you’re not mature enough for a lot of what went down. And you shouldn’t be havin’ sex, either, since we’re on the subject. Accidents happen, and if you can’t hear the word ‘penis’, then you’re definitely not ready to have a baby if one happens along.”

The statement is mild and unassuming, nothing in the tone but being conversationally friendly. My ears burn and I fight to keep my demeanor nonchalant. “What makes you thi-”

“-You should take the trash out of your room for once instead of relyin’ on one of us to do it for you. You left ‘evidence’, goof.” I count my lucky stars he doesn’t tease about it. Actually, now that I look at him, he seems almost sad.

“Fair point, Dad. Sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for. ‘M glad you’re bein’ careful, but still. Accidents can and do happen.”

“Are… are you disappointed? In me, I mean. You seem… upset by that.”

He gives a thin smile and chaffs my arm again, pulling me into a hug. “Naw. You’re your own person, you make your own decisions. Much as I don’t agree with ‘em sometimes, they’re still yours to make. Just… yeah. Anyway.”

“Why are you sad, then?”

I feel him rummage around in my pocket for the pack of cigarettes and I bat his hand away before pulling it and the lighter out for him. “I shouldn’t be sayin’ thanks for that, but ‘thanks’.’ Uh… memories, is all.” He lights one and just holds it, watching the smoke dance and disappear into the pale sky. My own brow furrows. 

“Of what?”

“Accidents that happened at seventeen.”

“I’m so confused. We already established I haven’t had one. You didn’t meet Mom until your twenties, right?” He nods. “You guys didn’t have any bio kids.” He nods again, glancing pointedly at me. I feel like an idiot. _“Shit,_ Dad… really?”

“Really, really.”

“You?” He nods again, flicking the ash without taking a drag. 

“...her name was Michaela. Callie for short.”

“Huh…” I never knew I had a sister. “Is _that_ a story I can hear?”

He sighs, shoulders hunching. “I dunno, Monkey. It’s not a happy one.”

“Well, I _know_ what happened to your home and your family. On Mindoir, I mean…” I say softly, hugging him tight.

“Same thing happened to her. She was nine months old.”

“I’m so sorry, Dad…” 

_“Mich auch,”_ he whispers. 

“If you missed her so much, why didn’t you and Mom try to have a bio kid instead of me?”

He exhales slowly, flicking the ash again. “People are not commodities to be replaced, Cassandra Ann. That’s not how this works. And I can’t actually answer that question.”

“Why not?”

Dad levels me with another ‘look’ and deadpans, “Because it deals with my genitals. And you can’t handle the anatomical terms, so you don’t get the story.” I can’t help my nose wrinkling.

“Yeah, but… I mean, I _understand_ the function and how it happens. You don’t have to say _it_. I get it. You can just say why you and Mom decided not to.”

“She didn’t have any choice in the matter; it wasn’t an option.”

“Why not?”

“Again, deals with my genitals.”

“Dad. Seriously.”

“Fine. I had a vasectomy before I met her. Because I didn’t want any more accidents.” His voice went quiet. “...couldn’t bear it if I had another one on purpose and I lost them, too.”

I rub _his_ arm this time in reassurance, and he rests his head on top of mine. “Sounds harsh.”

“Reality often is, Monkey.”

“Was it hard to deal with me?”

“Naw. You were actually a big reason why Erin and I got hitched.”

I gave him a strange look. “...me?”

“Mmhm. You.” 

The cigarette is burned down to the filter and he stubs it out, adding the butt to the other in his pocket. I have mixed feelings about him not actually smoking it, but I get that it’s soothing to just hold it. “I don’t understand.”

“You weren’t a replacement. People aren’t replaceable, remember? You were a… reminder. And a second chance for me to get it right this time around. I don’t think you remember much about back then. You were so little. Heh. You _actually_ were a little afraid of me at first, which I understand why. It had been just you and your mom, then all of a sudden here’s this giant and your whole world shifted.” His arm tightened around me briefly. “You came around, though. Anyway. She told me about you after a bit when we met, and I saw myself in her. And… I wanted to help. Give her options I didn’t when I was in the same situation. And you.”

He shoves the swing again, staring off toward the pasture, sun climbing higher in the sky. I’m skeptical. _“I’m_ the reason you guys fell in love? Please.” Dad huffs an unamused laugh.

“We weren’t in love when we got married. It was a business transaction, plain and simple. Love came later.”

My jaw dropped; I’d been under the impression they had a short but intense love affair and that had led to the hasty marriage. “Wait… what…?”

“Yeah. We decided the night we met, and got married that next mornin’.”

I don’t know what to think. The swing creaks under us as it moves, rhythmic as life on the farm.

“That’s so random,” I mutter.

“No, it ain’t. It got me a bigger place to live and more money, and you and your mom a roof over your heads, plus healthcare benefits. We found out later we were pretty compatible on a lot of other things, such as, y’know, _life._ And then she also joined up with the Alliance, too, and I was able to give her a bit of a leg up in that.” He gives a small sigh. “We both knew what it was when we agreed to get married.”

“Wow… that… huh.” I sit quietly, snuggling under his arm and processing. Now that I think back, certain things make more sense. I don’t know what to think.

“You were definitely my decidin’ factor, though,” he continues softly. “All I knew was Erin was alone with a little girl and no one she thought she could turn to. I couldn’t save _my_ daughter, but… maybe I could make a difference for hers. Turned out pretty okay, I think.”

I glance up at him, my dark hair catching on his jacket. He still has the far-away look in his eyes, pensive expression on his face as he gazes at the pasture. I can tell he misses Mom as much as I do. “I think so, too, Dad…” I reply, equally soft. He gives a thin smile, hugging me tight again before patting my arm. 

“What d’you say, Monkey? Time to go in?”

“Sure. I guess.” I shiver as he lets me go and stands up, stretching. His jacket and shirt ride up and I poke his exposed stomach. Dad flinches and glares at me, snapping his arm down to his side; I can’t help but giggle as I shove myself off the porch swing and we make our way inside.

“Quit, brat. You’re terrible.”

“You started it.”

He puts me in a loose headlock and noogies the top of my head again and I screech in protest. "Don't matter, Cas."

“Boots off, please!” Grandma calls from the kitchen. The pans clatter as she moves around and the smell of pancakes and bacon wafts through the air. Both our stomachs growl. Dad gives a messy salute towards the kitchen as he winks at me.

_“Jawohl, Frau.”_ His large boots get kicked off in the pile next to the door, Papa’s slightly smaller ones askew next to them. I place mine neatly next to Grandma’s and we enter the kitchen.

“Bless you,” she teases, quirking an eyebrow at him and smirking. She flips a couple of pancakes and shoves the platter of already made ones at us. “Eat up before it gets cold. Bacon’s in the oven, should be done soon.”

“Mmph. You spoil us, Mina,” Dad says, scooping a few off the platter and onto the plate already laid out. 

She smirks again, warm, cinnamon eyes crinkling in the corners. Just like Papa’s. I study her, memorizing the face I’ve only recently come to know as part of me. “Comes with the territory. What is it you always say? Family’s all?”

The tips of Dad’s ears tinge pink as he ducks his head, concentrating on his breakfast plate. _“...familie ist alles,”_ he replies shyly. “Family is everythin’.”

“Indeed it is, honey. And _I,_ for one, am happy that you’re both in mine.” She turns around and pulls the bacon out of the oven, glossy dark hair shot through with shimmers of silver in it sparkling in the sunlight filtering through the window above the sink. I can see where Papa gets his expressions from, his humor, and his temper. And, I suppose, I can see where I get mine, too. It’s nice to finally have some answers, see where pieces of me originate. 

“Careful, now, I might start thinkin’ you actually like me,” Dad teases her back, ears fully red now. Grandma laughs, carefully placing the bacon on another platter.

“Can’t have that, can we. If nothing else, you’re useful to me. I never would have tried cooking bacon in the oven if you hadn’t shown me. What a useful trick.” She delicately picks up a piece and nibbles it, waggling her eyebrows at Dad.

“Yerrrrrrrrrrr welcome,” he drawls, helping himself with a half-grin. 

“It’s the only reason I keep you around,” she deadpans, eyes gleaming in humor. “Cooking tips. Go figure.”

“Knew it.”

“Well, that, and fence repair. It’s nice having someone who knows what they’re actually doing around.”

Dad snorts as he helps himself to more pancakes and pours maple syrup on them. “I does what I cans.” Grandma shakes her spatula at him.

“Is _that_ where Pumpkin picked that up from? I hate it,” she grouses. “It’s awful.” He just laughs again. It’s so weird to hear her call Papa ‘Pumpkin’. 

“A-yuh.”

“You’re terrible. Just for that, I have errands for you to run. Take the truck, please.” Dad just snickers into his plate, impish grin that is so familiar firmly in place.

_“Jawohl, Frau.”_ She rolls her eyes and leans on her elbows on the counter in front of us, munching another piece of bacon. 

“What are your plans for the day, Cassie? Are you sticking around here? You’d have the run of the place; all I plan on doing is cleaning the house a bit and getting dinner prepped. You could ride, if you wanted to.”

I look at her, still somewhat shy. I know she’s my grandmother, and my family, but I still don’t know her all that well and I never know what the proper response should be. She smiles at me, patient; she understands the awkward nature of it all.

“Actually, if you don’t need me here, I’d like to go with Dad into town...?” I ask hesitantly. He bumps his knee into mine, giving me unspoken support and pulls a worn and frayed baseball hat over his buzzed hair.

“Sure, that’s fine. It’d be boring here for you otherwise, I think,” she agrees. “I’m not going to start doing anything really big until your father gets up.” I bite my lip in amusement; neither Mom nor Dad ever slept in late. I definitely can see where I get it from now. There’s a small pause before the word ‘father’. She’s still not used to saying it. None of us are, not really. It’s been a few years since everything came to light, but it still feels strange to put it to words. “It’s going to be a beautiful day out. You should get lunch while you’re in town.”

“You sure?” Dad asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow and collecting my now empty plate along with his. He brings them over to the sink and starts washing them, Grandma flapping her hands at him to chase him away and she takes over. The height difference between them is ridiculous and I have to work hard not to laugh any time I see them next to each other.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Dinner’s not going to be til later, and it’s just grazing platters.” She snaps a dish towel playfully at his butt and he scoots out of the way, biting his lower lip in amusement. 

“Aight. I’m gonna clean up and then I’ll need your marchin’ orders, Cap’n.” He gently hip checks Grandma and tugs a lock of my hair as he walks past me to the stairs. “You should get dressed, too, Cas. Sweats ain’t appropriate outside the home or the gym.”

I roll my eyes and Grandma winks at me as I slide off the breakfast stool. I walk up the stairs and glance at the photos hanging along them, pictures of Papa through the years with Grandma and Pop, though I never got to meet him. Papa gets his build and his height from Pop and his coloring and mannerisms from Grandma; he’s a neat blend of the two of them. Closer to the top of the stairs, newer pictures had been added; I see some old pictures of me that Dad had given Grandma and Papa, and then the last few are of the three of us from when I first met everyone here. One of the frames is crooked and I straighten it gently. There is only one picture of Mom. I can understand why there aren’t more, but it hurts a little. Sometimes I wonder if Papa doesn’t like looking at me or doesn’t like me because I remind him of her. Dad says I look like her when they first met. My hair is brown-black, though. Mom was platinum blonde from a bottle. 

Papa’s old bedroom is mine when we visit; him and Dad taking the guest room across the hall. I hear Dad’s voice murmuring through the door and Papa’s corresponding sleep-filled rasp. It sounds like he’s fighting off another migraine. Helluva thing, on his birthday. I quickly pull on some jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, followed by Dad’s old N7 hoodie. I swim in it, but it’s the softest and most comfortable warm shirt I have and nobody will be able to pry it from my cold, dead fingers. I hear their door close softly and join Dad quietly on the landing. He gives me a half grin before starting down the stairs.

“Is he ok?”

“Yeah. SSDD, he woke up feelin’ pressure behind his eye, so he took meds and hopefully it’ll be gone by tonight. Stupid cold front. He used to get ‘em whenever we dropped boots on planets that had real drastic weather changes. Knock on wood, this one doesn’t seem bad, though.”

Grandma glanced up at us from the list she was writing. “Oh, poor Pumpkin… still can’t escape them, huh?” Dad shakes his head and leans his elbows on the island with a stifled yawn. “At least he has some of the best nurses with the two of you. Here. I need them by early afternoon, please.” She shoves the list at him and he furrows his brow as he looks at it.

“Mmkay. I’ll see what we can do.” He tucks it into his jacket pocket and goes to the door to put on his boots, grabbing the truck keys off the hook. My own boots are much stiffer and less scuffed than Dad’s; I’m not used to cowboy boots and even though I love the horses, they make me nervous at how tall they are when I sit on them. Papa is elegant when he rides, Dad less elegant but no less graceful; he twists and rolls with the motion of the horse like a cat while Papa can make the horse dance. I have yet to do anything other than perch on their backs and hope not to fall off, though Grandma says I need to spend a season with her and I’ll be cantering like a pro.

“Ok. Thanks, Mark,” Grandma replies, wiping invisible crumbs off the counter into her hand. We’re halfway out the door when we hear, “I lo- hm. Love you guys.” She’s flustered when I look back at her, her cheeks pink.

Dad’s ears turn bright red again and I run into his back as he pauses in the doorway.

“Same, Mina.”

The door closes softly behind us, bright March sunshine bathing us in delicate warmth full of promise.


	2. My Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Cassie run errands for her grandmother and have a heart-to-heart over lunch

_**Family Is Everything,**_ by potionsmaster

Rating: M for swearing, sexual situations, dick jokes. My usual

**Chapter 2:** _My Girl_

* * *

The ride into town is pleasant. Wispy green buds are on the tree branches, the radio announcer stating the sun was going to give way to clouds and possible showers later on in the afternoon. Dad has his window down and his arm out the window, mindlessly humming along to whatever classic country song comes up. It’s endearing as hell as well as annoying. I suspect part of the reason Dad does it is to get a rise out of me. 

“What’s on the list?”

“Barn stuff, mostly. Buckets, replacement clips, a new hose, wire, nails to fix some boards Wraith knocked loose, et cetera, et cetera…” He peers in the rearview mirror and flips on the blinker. “Nothin’ fancy. Oh!” The DJ names the song that starts playing,  _ My Girl, _ by Dylan Scott, and Dad turns it up a little. A sad smile tugs at his face. “I haven’t heard this one in ages… It’s one I would play for Erin…” 

_ She looks so pretty with no makeup on _

_ You should hear her talkin' to her momma on phone _

_ I love it when she raps to an Eminem song _

_ That's my girl _

_ Man, her eyes really drive me crazy _

_ You should see her smile when she holds a baby _

_ I can honestly say that she saved me _

_ My girl, yeah _

It’s bittersweet. We listened for a little bit, Dad mouthing along to the words before and squeezes my knee at the ‘holds a baby’ line before he gets a wicked grin and starts actually singing aloud.

_ Every night before she goes to bed _

_ She hits her knees and ‘bobs’ her head _

_ Thanks the Lord for another day _

_ I just thank him for my girl _

The words on the radio don’t match; the singer croons ‘bows’ her head and my jaw drops. I smack Dad on the shoulder and he just laughs, blue eyes sparkling with amusement.  _ “Dad. Seriously. _ Why are you so  _ awful…” _ We slow down and pull into the agro store parking lot and park, locking the truck behind us. He just laughs again. 

“Your mom and I used to josh around and mess with song lyrics all the time. I’d forgotten about that one; she just nonchalantly slipped it on in one day and I about fuckin’  _ died _ . That was a good day. She was a lot of fun. I miss her, Monkey.”

His voice softens as he talks and we fall silent as we enter the store. It’s a leisurely stroll as we wander the aisles and take our time finding all the material. 

“Hey Dad…?”

“Mm?”

“Does… does Grandma really…  _ love _ me? Us?” I falter, playing with the overly long sleeves of the faded black hoodie.

He doesn’t look up from comparing spools of fencing wire, furrowing his brow with a grunt. “She says she does. No reason not to believe her.”

“Yeah, but… you don’t think she feels, like,  _ obligated _ to say it?”

“I doubt it, Monkey. She’s actually a bit like your mother was. Says what she means and means what she says, and heaven help you if it’s somethin’ she’s frustrated about, because your ears’ll fuckin’ burn off.” I snicker at that; I can easily see it. “Naw, Mina… Mina’s good people. Erin had made the remark more than a few times that one of the things she regretted about leavin’ things the way she did was she didn’t get to spend more time with your grandmother; said that they either were at each other’s throats or best buds, dependin’ on the topic.” He sighs and tosses both boxes into the basket, moving down the aisle. 

“Huh. I wonder if Grandma misses Mom.”

“That, I dunno. You’ll have to ask her yourself. I imagine she did a bit after Erin left, but it’s been so long, I don’t think it registers for Mina anymore, to be honest.” 

We make our way towards the checkout kiosks and I wrap my arm around his middle, leaning heavily on him and plant a kiss on his ribs. He gives an amused huff and drops his free arm around me, kissing the top of my head in response. The clerk gives us a shrewd look, eyeing Dad’s scars on the left side of his face.

“Pardon me, but… aren’t you Commander Shepard?”

“Nope. Was married to her, though. So I guess  _ Mister _ Commander Shepard, if anythin'.”

“I’m sorry?” The clerk’s confusion is palpable. I rub my cheek on Dad’s ribs, trying to be reassuring. He doesn’t like being recognized. I know what game he’s playing, too; he’s no longer a ‘commander’. He’s a major, like Papa. 

Dad clenches his jaw and swipes his credit chit. “I  _ said _ , I was  _ married _ to Commander Shepard. She  _ died _ , didn’t you hear? From years back.”

The clerk glances at me with my arms around him, staring right back at him. “Oh…I thought… Commander Shepard had saved the… I mean-" Dad continues to glare at him. The clerk is getting more and more flustered. "Is… Is this your new wife? Mr. Shepard?”

We both just blink in astonishment and look at each other, eyes wide. “She’s my  _ daughter _ , you heathen. What the absolute  _ fuck _ …” 

“OH, I’m so sorry! I… I don’t know, I. I’ll just be quiet now.”

“Probably for the best, cupcake.” Dad’s jaw flexes and his voice is flat and terse. It looks like the clerk wants to say more, but he holds with what he said and keeps his mouth shut. I quickly grab the bags off the counter and hustle after Dad, his long legs eating up the ground in large strides. He reaches the truck way before I do and opens the door for me, climbing in his side and closing the door firmly, silently seething.

“You ok…?” I cautiously slide a hand onto Dad’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. He doesn’t look at me, massive hand sliding over mine after a minute and giving a reciprocal squeeze before he starts the truck.

“Yeah. Or rather, I will be. Some people, I swear to Christ…” We make our way into the historic downtown section, quaint shop fronts and cafes lining the street in a cozy manner. I read the names of the businesses and giggle at one. 

“The Local Watering Hole? That’s funny.”

Dad snorts, pausing at a stop sign. “A-yuh. Bit on the nose, but can’t beat the word of mouth advertisin’.”

“I wonder if the decoration is just as doofy as the name.”

“Naw. Typical bar, but I dunno, it’s been a few years since I’ve been in it.”

“Could we go there for lunch?”

He hesitates. “Ah… no. I’m not welcome there.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Banned. Got into a fight.”

_ Oh. _

I lift my eyebrow higher at him.

“I was younger and stupider then, aight? Plus the shithead had it comin’.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure he did. Whatever you say, Dad.” I shake my head, huffing in amusement. It doesn’t really surprise me when it comes down to it. I don’t remember Dad ever showing a violent side at home, but from what little I know of his service record, he has a certain penchant for it. The way he tells it, he never actively seeks out trouble. It always just happens to find  _ him. _

“What d’you feel like, Monkey? Sandwiches? Burgers? Rabbit food?” I giggle as we drive past a line of restaurants, the last one a salad joint. 

“Burgers. It has outdoor seating.”

“Done, darlin’.”

We park on the street, walk into the restaurant, and request a table outdoors. I look out at the street and watch the cars and people go by. It’s a pleasant atmosphere, cozy and rural. The area recovered well from the war; rubble and scorch marks still being erased by construction. Dad sighs as he punches in his order and shoves the kiosk towards me.

“Is it weird being here?” 

He quirks an eyebrow at me and adjusts his baseball cap. I select my meal and hit ‘place order’. “How d’you mean?”

“For you, I mean. I mean, Mom was sorta from around here. Right?”

“Ah.” He’s quiet for a little bit. “No? I guess… it’s really just another place to be? It’s got enough like home to be familiar and comfortable but different enough to be its own thing, and the people are fine?” He rolls his lips inwards a moment, pensive. “Erin was actually born on a space station. I think she was here because your other grandma was livin’ nearby. I wasn’t too clear on it, to be honest. By the time your mom and I met, it was in the south and close to one of the Alliance Navy bases.”

That in and of itself was more than I’d ever heard him talk about how they met until this morning. Mom hardly ever said anything about it other than the fact it was a short thing and she didn’t know at the time exactly how good a choice she’d made. Thinking back, I realized she hadn’t elaborated on anything if she could help it and she would just sorta smile at my speculations, never saying whether or not I was close to the truth.

“But… I guess I just don’t get  _ why _ . Why did Papa leave us? Did that make Mom leave for the south? Why didn’t she talk to Grandma Beth more?” My frustration is apparent to him.

“Well, first off,  _ she’s  _ the one who left. From what I understand, anyway. She didn’t know what to do and she was scared, Monkey,” he says quietly, head cocked thoughtfully to the side. “Sometimes people run when they’re scared, plain and simple. And you don’t always know what you’re gonna do in the same situation. It’s easy to say what you would or wouldn’t do in a scenario, because the likelihood of you havin’ to actually face it is slim to none. It’s why I say ‘talk is cheap’ with shit and speculation is useless. You don’t actually know what you’re gonna do until you’re in the moment, and even then, you’re a wild card and it could go either way. Sure, you can train yourself for combat and get muscle memory, but with personal shit? That’s somethin’ nobody can really predict or train for.”

He’s in full ‘Dad-mode’ and lecturing me now. 

“I didn’t know what I was gonna do with Callie, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want her mother to carry to term, and I definitely wasn’t ready to have a kid, be a father. I was goddamn terrified. But. She happened, and her mother decided to keep her, and I had to seriously think about the future. I knew I didn’t want to disappear on her, or have her go without. So I joined the Alliance to make sure Callie always had a way to get medical care and money for livin’.” A waiter brings our food and drinks; I hadn’t realized he’d ordered a beer along with his burger. I gave him an incredulous look as he took a sip.

“Can’t have a bacon cheeseburger without a beer to wash it down, Cas. Them’s the rules; I don’t make ‘em.” He’s got his usual damnable smirk on his face again as we settle into the meal. 

“Yeah, y’do,” I snark back. “You’re  _ Mister Commander Shepard,  _ right?” He flips me the bird and takes another sip, blue eyes twinkling with good humor beneath his hat. “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.”

He laughs before grabbing the ketchup and squirting some on the side of his plate, dipping a sweet potato fry in it. “Can’t put anythin’ past you, Monkey.” We say the next bit in tandem together. “Must be why they pay you the big bucks.” He tips his head back and laughs fully, bright and surprised. “I guess I say that a lot, huh?”

“Nooooooo. Never,” I tease, taking a bite of my food. The burger is good, well done and juicy, the lettuce and tomato I’ve only recently started appreciating on it crisp and fresh. I see him eyeing the veggies approvingly. 

“Erin’d be proud of you; never could quite convince her that sandwiches ‘n shit tasted better with greens on it.”

“Yeah, well,  _ you’re _ the one who always calls it ‘rabbit food’. I don’t really blame her for not wanting to put it on good stuff, like meat. And cheese. And bread.”

Dad snorts in amusement, dipping another sweet potato fry in his ketchup. “Y’know, I didn’t actually see a rabbit in real life until we took you to a pettin’ zoo when you were about three or four. That was kinda cool. Fuckin’ weird lookin’, though, with the long ears and all.”

Small comments like that bring it to the forefront that even though Dad’s human, he doesn’t have a whole lot of experience with much of what I’m familiar with. Mom and I had fun exposing him to things and laughing about his reactions. He had never seemed to mind, though, taking it all in stride with his usual impish grin. 

“What do you miss most about Mom?”

His grin fades a bit as he gets that pensive look on his face. “Her smile. And how easy it was to be with her on lazy days.” He withdrew into himself a bit, toying with his food. “Me ‘n her used to sit up top on the  _ Normandy _ sometimes while we were in drydock, stare at the nebula. Like, actually  _ on top _ on top of the ship; not just on the bridge. Uh, playin’ video games together now and then.” His ears turn a little pink at that and he takes a drink from his beer, ducking his gaze to his plate a moment. “Takin’ walks together with you when you were younger, swing you between us by your hands. Cookin’ with her sittin’ on the countertop. We’d share an occasional cigar sometimes, too. Those moments were my absolute favorites. She’d be in one of my t-shirts, or some loose one of hers, have it hangin’ off her shoulder and leanin’ up on me. We’d be watchin’ the sunset or the stars, trade it back and forth, and just…  _ be. _ Didn’t need to talk or anythin’. Nothin’ really was ever important enough to say then.”

I know he has a few selfies of them on a beach somewhere, both in the typical military aviator sunglasses and Mom blowing kisses at the camera. I had squirreled away a couple for myself at school, had them tucked in a drawer. I don’t like people seeing them and asking questions; it always hurts too much when they ask about Mom. Telling them those were the last tangible ties to her I had, the last images of her as ‘Mom’, not ‘Commander Shepard who died in the line of fire in the Geth War.’ Of course I have pictures of her in uniform, her medals and dress blues, hair swept back in a neat bun, liquid chocolate brown eyes warm and smiling behind a stern look.

But her eyes aren’t mine. Mine are brown, too, but they have a golden hue to them. Flecks of honey that glow when the sun hits them just right. I knew fairly early on that I didn’t come from Dad, but that never mattered. Mom had never brought up who my real father was and I had learned to stop asking. 

“What about you, Monkey? What’re some of your favorite memories of her?”

His question back to me breaks my reverie and I focus back on his face, unmarred cheek slightly turned towards me. I don’t know if he realizes he automatically tips his head like that towards people, trying to hide the scars that spiderweb around his left eye and down his cheek. One of my friends growing up had asked me what it was like to have Two-Face as my dad and I punched him in the nose. Dad had laughed when Mom told him what happened, but I know he was self-conscious then. 

“Ummm… well, I… I guess…” It’s hard to think of some. For most of my life, I’ve been at a boarding school while my parents had been deployed. This is my last year before graduating in a few months. “Birthdays. Her… waking me up with a present to unwrap. Her trying to bake a cake and you having to step in and save it? I liked seeing the two of you being silly in the kitchen together.” He huffs, amused. “Her making me chocolate chip pancakes in general. And she’d always let me steal a handful of the chips?”

Dad’s face softens as he grins, taking a bite of food. “Heh. One of the only things she could actually cook well on her own.”

I toy with my own food, lapsing into silence a bit before speaking again. “I...can’t really remember as much as I want to.”

He pauses, looking at me over the top of his burger. Waiting.

“I hate that I can’t,” I whisper.

“It’s alright, Monkey. I’ll remind ya. So will your father. So will Mina, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but  _ how? _ They knew her years ago. They didn’t know her after! They didn’t know her with  _ me, _ and why would they even care?” I push my plate away. The food is less appetizing now.

“Sweetheart, they still know  _ some  _ stuff. They know you loved her, still do, and always will. And they know she loved  _ you  _ very much. As they love you. Why wouldn’t they help you remember?”

My ears burn as I keep my eyes on my food and lips pinched closed. “Well, now it sounds stupid when you say it outloud,” I mumble.

“It’s not stupid, Cas. You feel how you feel. She was your mom. They don’t expect you to stop lovin’ her, or that they’ll replace her or anythin’.”

“I guess I wonder why they would bother making her look good to me, if she was the one who did the leaving.”

Dad wipes his mouth with a napkin and places it next to his plate with a small sigh. “Monkey, I can’t speak for them, but generally, people tend to be at the very least  _ respectful _ of other people’s family, even if there’s a less than happy past between them. Your father and grandmother are good people. They don’t want to take her away from you, or take her place. ‘Member what I said from earlier?”

“...people aren’t replaceable?”

“Ayuh.”

“Huh.”

We sit in silence and I mull it all over in my head. The table is freshly cleared, clouds starting to pile up in the distance. Dad taps a cigarette out and lights it, smoke drifting out of his nostrils. I hold my hand out, asking without words for a drag and he just smirks at me as he shakes his head. “Huh-uh. Too young, ‘member?”

I take a sip of my water and lean back in my chair, catching his gaze. Our eyes lock and the good humor slowly leaks off his face.

“Hey, Dad.” I swallow hard, steeling myself. He tips his head to the side, curious. “....penis.”

He takes another drag and gives me a dubious look. “Do what, now?”

“You heard me.”

“Penis?” He mirrors me, leaning back in his chair and gives me a considering once-over.

I swallow hard again, fighting not to laugh or blush. “Mmhm. Penis.”

He nods in approval, tossing his gaze out to the street. “Well, alright then. Let’s go on a little trail ride, you and me, and I’ll tell you the tale.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [My Girl, by Dylan Scott](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEKLeWBr9jY)
> 
> Stay turned for part 2 coming up soon!


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